Page 18 of Descent

Eventually, I do the right thing and pull out of her before forcing her to tuck into my arms. She comes happily, a smile on her face as she looks up at me.

“Wow,” she breathes.

“Okay, be honest, I’m better than Vincent, right?”

She scoffs and smacks my chest as she stands up.

“You don’t want to go there, Liam.”

I frown as I sit up, resting back on my hands.

“Why not?”

“Because you might not like my answer,” she says with a cheeky grin, before she takes off running for her bathroom.

I’m on my feet chasing her in an instant because the feisty little thing knew I would. I guess I’m predictable, pretty obvious by now. Wherever Skyla is, I’m there. Even if I have to chase her down, I’m there.

Chapter Eight

Skyla

After Liam gave me two more orgasms in the shower, thankfully not from penetration because, my god, I might need an icepack down there, we curled up in bed and watched a movie. At around one in the morning, I couldn’t sleep, feeling restless, so I decided to head downstairs. Maybe a drink and a snack will help.

When I come downstairs, I find Asher on the couch, eyes on the ceiling and a bottle of bourbon on the table–no glass, just the bottle. His gaze comes to me immediately, silently tracking me as I make my way into the kitchen.

I tell myself I’m not going to speak to him, that I’m going to pretend like he doesn’t exist. Somehow though, like an addict that gives in no matter how toxic they know the poison is, I engage with him.

“Your bed not comfortable or something?” I ask, as I grab a piece of bread and pop it into the toaster before pouring myself a glass of water.

“Too loud,” he answers stiffly. “Hard to sleep.”

I turn around, leaning my back against the counter as I cross my arms over my chest. He’s sitting up now, forearms resting on his knees as he watches me.

“If you’re looking for an apology, you won’t find one. Get some noise cancelling headphones or something.”

“Not sure even those would drown out my wife’s screams as my best friend fucks her into the mattress,” he scoffs.

I roll my eyes at him. “I’m not your wife. Just because we did a creepy cult ceremony in front of our parents and practically every fucking man in this society, doesn’t make us married. We’d need a marriage certificate for it to even be semi-legal and—”

“Look on the counter,” he says, as he nods towards the counter beside me.

There is a folder there that I hadn’t noticed before. My brows furrow as I lift it up, my heart coming to a full stop for several seconds as I read the words scrawled across the top.

Certificate of Marriage. Along with Asher’s name and signature, then my name and signature.

“What the fuck?” I snap. “I didn’t sign this? How did they get my signature!”

“You really don’t have a clue how powerful the Brethren is. Do you, Princess?”

I hate that a small part of me still responds to him. That one moment, I have all this anger and hate for him. Then the next, he uses that stupid pet name, and my heart beats out of rhythm. Thankfully, it’s back to normal in no time and I’m able to hold on to the anger inside me.

“This is a forged signature. It isn’t legal! It’ll never hold up in court. I’ll fight this and—”

“And what? Take it up to the Supreme Court? Even if you could, guess what? Does the name Chief Justice Eric Hutchinson sound familiar? He is their most senior member . The man thatwas standing to your father’s right in that room, trying to hide his raging hard on. You. Can’t. Fight. This.”

With every word he speaks, he takes a step closer, until he’s mere inches from me. His hands are braced on the counter behind me, eyes hardened and focused, as he leans down until we are eye to eye. Our noses bump against one another for a moment, but he’s quick to create just another inch of distance so it doesn’t happen again.

For several seconds, all that can be heard in this kitchen is our heavy breathing. My eyes flick back and forth between his, as he does the same. No matter what an asshole he is, there is still…something here and I hate myself for admitting it.

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